Robert Crais - The Last Detective

time missing: 17 hours, 41 minutes

Beverly Hills makes people think of mansions and hillbillies, but the flats south of Wilshire are lined with modest stucco homes and sturdy bungalow apartments that would go unnoticed in any American town. Lucy and Ben shared an apartment in a two-story building shaped like a U, with the mouth facing the street and the arms embracing a stairway courtyard filled with birds- of- paradise and two towering palms. It was not a limousine street, but a black Presidential stretch was waiting by the fire hydrant outside her building.

I wedged my car into a parking spot half a block down and walked up the sidewalk. The limo driver was reading a magazine behind the wheel with the windows raised and the engine running. Two men were smoking in a Mercury Marquis parked across the street in front of Gittamon's car. They were thick men in their late forties with ruddy faces, short hair, and the flat expressions of men who were used to being in the wrong place at the wrong time and weren't much bothered by it. They watched me like cops.

I went up the stairs and rang her bell. A man I had never met before answered the door.

"May I help you?"

It was Richard. I put out my hand.

"Elvis Cole. I wish we weren't meeting like this."

Richard's face darkened. He ignored my hand.

"I wish we weren't meeting at all."

Lucy stepped in front of him, looking uncomfortable and irritated. Richard was good at making her angry.

She said, "Don't start."

"I told you this would happen, didn't I? How many times did I tell you, but you wouldn't listen?"

"Richard, just stop, please."

I said, "Yes, now would be the time to stop."

Something sour flickered in Richard's eyes, but then he turned back into her apartment. Richard was Lucy's age, but his hair was silver on the sides and thinning badly. He wore a black knit shirt, khaki slacks that were wrinkled from the plane, and Bruno Magli mocs that cost more than I made in a week. Even wrinkled and sleepless, Richard looked rich. He owned a natural gas company with international holdings.

Lucy lowered her voice as I followed her inside.

"They just got here. I called to tell you that he landed, but I guess you were on your way over."

Richard had joined a solidly built man in a dark business suit in Lucy's living room. The man had steel-gray hair so short that he was nearly bald, and eyes that looked like the wrong end of gun sights. He put out his hand.

"Leland Myers. I run security for Richard's company."

Richard said, "I brought Lee to help find Ben since you people managed to lose him."

As Myers and I shook, Gittamon came out of the hall with Ben's orange iMac. He huffed with the weight as he put it on a little table by her door.

"We'll have his E-mail by the end of the day. You'd be surprised what children tell their friends."

I was annoyed that Gittamon was still chasing the

staged abduction theory, but I wanted to be careful with how I described what we found on the slope to Lucy.

"You're not going to find anything in his Email, Sergeant. Starkey and I searched the slope this morning. We found a shoe print where Ben dropped his Game Freak. It was probably left by the man who took Ben, and he was likely someone who served with me in Vietnam."

Lucy shook her head.

"I thought the others were dead."

"They are, but now I think that the person who did this has a certain type of combat experience. I gave Starkey a list of names, and I'll try to remember more. She called SID to try for a cast of the print. Any luck, and we might get a pretty good guess of his height and weight."

Richard and Myers glanced at each other, then Richard crossed his arms, frowning.

Richard said, "Lucy told me the man mentioned Vietnam last night, and that all of this had something to do with you. Were we doubting this before now?"

"People can say anything, Richard. Now I know he's for real."

Myers said, "What do you mean, a certain type of combat experience?"

"You don't learn how to move the way this man moved by hunting deer on the weekends or going through ROTC. This guy spent time in places where he was surrounded by people who would kill him if they found him, so he knows how to move without leaving a trail. Also, we didn't find signs of a struggle, which means Ben never saw him coming."

I told them how Ben's footprints ended abruptly and that we had found only the one other print. Myers took notes while I described the scene, with Richard crossing and recrossing his arms with increasing agitation. By the time I finished he was pacing Lucy's small living room in tight circles.

"This is fucking great, Cole. You're saying some kind of murdering Green Beret commando like Rambo took my son?"

Gittamon checked his pager, looking unhappy with me.

"We don't know that, Mr. Chenier. Once SID reaches the scene, we'll investigate more thoroughly. Mr. Cole might be jumping at conclusions without enough evidence."

I said, "I'm not jumping at anything, Gittamon. I came here because I want you to see for yourself. SID is on the way now."

Richard glanced at Gittamon, then stared at Lucy. "No, I'm sure that Mr. Cole has it right. I'm sure this man is every bit as dangerous as Cole believes. Cole has a history of drawing people like this. A man named Rossier almost killed my ex-wife back in Louisiana thanks to Mr. Cole."

The corners of Lucy's mouth tightened with pale dots.

"We've been over that enough, Richard."

Richard kept going.

"Then she moved here to Los Angeles so another lunatic named Sobek could stalk our son – how many people did he kill, Lucille? Seven, eight? He was some kind of serial killer or something."

Lucy stepped in front of him, and lowered her voice.

"Stop it, Richard. You don't always have to be an asshole."

Richard's voice grew louder.

"I tried to tell her that associating with Cole puts them in danger, but would she listen? No. She didn't listen because our son's safety wasn't as important as her getting what she wants."

Lucy slapped him with a single hard shot that snapped on his cheek like a firecracker.

"I told you to stop."

Gittamon squirmed as if he wished he were anywhere else. Myers touched Richard's arm.

"Richard."

Richard didn't move.

"Richard, we need to get started."

Richard's jaw knotted as if he wanted to say more but was chewing the words to keep them inside. He glanced at Lucy, then averted his eyes as if he suddenly felt awkward and embarrassed by his outburst. He lowered his voice.

"I promised myself I wouldn't do that, Lucille. I'm sorry."

Lucy didn't answer. Her left nostril pulsed as she breathed. I could hear her breathing from across the room.

Richard wet his lips, the awkwardness giving him the air of a little boy who had been caught doing something naughty and embarrassing. He moved away from her, then shrugged at Gittamon.

"She's right, Sergeant – I'm an asshole, but I love my son and I'm worried about him. I'll do whatever I can to find him. That's why I'm here, and that's why I brought Lee."

Myers cleared his throat.

"We should see this hill Cole described. Debbie's good with a crime scene. He should be in on this."

Gittamon said, "Who's Debbie?"

Richard glanced at Lucy again, then sat on a hard chair in the corner. He rubbed his face with both hands.

"Debbie DeNice; it's short for Debulon or something. He's a retired New Orleans detective. Homicide or something, right, Lee?"

"Homicide. Phenomenal case clearance rate."

Richard pushed to his feet.

"The best in the city. Everyone I brought is the best. I'll find Ben if I have to hire Scotland-fucking-Yard."